


Mister Mom

by fidgey



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, M/M, serious biznasty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 12:23:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fidgey/pseuds/fidgey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Bro and Dad raise their kids together in an apartment sub-divsion where they live very close to one another.<br/>Respect and admire becomes a little more than that on Bro's part, and it's basically about how it effects his friendship with Dad.<br/>This fanfic has a lot of flash backs and time skips.</p><p>It is read in second person with a present tense.</p><p>Some hints of JohnDave things in here too, I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mister Mom

"Mister Strider, I hope it is not too much of a problem for John to stay over an extra night. The business trip that I had planned turns out to be longer than expected. And, well, gosh. As cross as I am with my boss about it, I suppose a vacation from my at home job is precisely what I need."

Look at him talk. He had such a way of biting off his words with such precision. It made him sound like such an intellect. Everything was so neat and organized, much like his hair drenched in Dapper Dan and the clean press in his suit blazer which hugged his frame irresistibly. His apartment complex, which was across the street from yours, was much more organized than yours would ever be, even if you found stray cans of beer there on occasion or ash trays that needed to be cleaned.

You're caught staring again. Between that and those icy blues, it's hard to really know what to look at. Break away from that, and there is a porcelain face, clean shaven and lacking any hair. That or a protruding nose, and you know what they say about dudes with big noses.

That they sneeze really loud.

He says something that goes through your foggy mind cause, damn, he smelled nice.

Your name is Bro Strider. Well, that isn't really your name. It's something else. Something else unknown and ominous to ironically make you seem intimidati--

"Dirk--"

Well, shit. So much for that. You prefer Bro and usually you're introduced as Bro, but you're so close to this other guy, he knows a lot of things about you like your real name.  
With a visible cringe, you reply. But before you do, he catches you with a jovial laugh.

"Haha, I'm sorry. That sort of slipped out. I know how you prefer to be called something else. Mister Bro, I suppose. I thought I was just going to remind you of John's peanut allergy. Last time he stayed at your house, he came home with a rash. I'm counting on you to remember that and not give him anything with peanuts in it. I mean it. It's highly important."

"Okay, yea. Got it. No peanuts," you say lazily, somehow finding the way he emphasizes this importance really, really attractive.  
Let's face it. You're in love with this guy. You don't know how and you don't know why. It's haunted you since you met him ten years ago, and it's haunting you today. All of these thoughts and feelings are stowed away and you're hoping one day you'll grow up and get over it, even though you're coming up on your 30th birthday soon. The way you felt about this guy? It was ridiculous. It was trashy high school over again and that was something you tried your best to avoid.

His hand rakes through his child's hair. His child, right. He has a son. There's a definite age gap between you both, but for the most part, you're adults.  
You had to admit, John was an adorable little kid, especially the way that he stayed close to his dad when you were present like a lost puppy. Was it the fact he knew more about you than anybody else other than Dave? Or maybe it was just those stupid sunglasses you wore (which were hella cool, everybody else can suck it.) Maybe it was because John was a shrimpy wimpy kid that you could crush between your thighs.

…  
Not like you would. What are you thinking? He's your little bro's best bud.

Speaking of little bro, there he is in the hallway, sloppily dressed in PJ pants too big for him and a wife beater cause it's cool. Everything about Dave Strider was cool. You know why?  
Cause he's a Strider. That is why. It's in his blood and in his pubes to be cool. He's got some working to do, but you know in time he'll be the coolest dude around when you're six feet under ground. He's got his sunglasses on like you've raised him to wear; the kid never went anywhere without them on.  
You love that little shit. He's the most favorite shit you ever shat. Which didn't actually happen; you both came from the same mom who isn't in the picture anymore and that the author is too lazy to go into detail with.

Whatever. She's out of the picture. Just you and the lil' man now and a bunch of awesome puppets.  
It was the life.

Instantly, John shifts past his hella hot dad and past you, but not all the while giving you the most uncertain of looks like he always did. You're used to it. He comes over to visit Dave a lot. His pops catches onto this, of course, and does that thing that he does a lot.

Be a good parent.

"John, shucks. Mind your manners. Thank the Striders for housing you this weekend."  
Stern and solemn sounding, you know this guy means business. He said shucks; that was usually the first signal. For some reason, this seems to shimmy your jimjams up a little; whatever the hell that means.  
John pivots on his heels and looks up at you in a half twist. What on Earth was this kid doing?

"Haha, thanks for having me over, Mister Strider!"

"What else do you say?" His father questions.

"Ummm, I love you, Dad!"

For a moment, a split moment, you could have sworn that everything was black and white and you had been converted into some 1940's sitcom. It always made you uncomfortable when that happened, which was a lot with two Egberts in the room. You take a side step, trying to awkwardly express your uncertainty about all of this.

He chuffs, then starts laughing again, reciprocating his boy's affections.  
"I love you too, champ. Be a good sport," Mister Egbert says, pulling his gaze from John to put his focus on you again.  
"Remember to emphasize that his father wants him in bed when Dave goes to bed. Thanks again," he says, giving you a brilliant smile and slapping you playfully on the arm before putting his hat back on his head and leaving. As he goes, you reply:

"Have a sick business trip, Jack. I'll call you if I need to."

**Author's Note:**

>  _Okay, I know I have a habit of leaving things at loose ends, but I'm going to try my attempt at another multi-chapter fanfic again with sort of a not-so-popular pairing._  
>  People need to kick me so I'll finish stuff, okay. Not sure where this is going to go, but it should only have language ratings in it, but who really knows where it'll lead. 
> 
> Also, sorry if the second person present tense is wonky and weird to read. I'm really too used to writing that way!  
> Anyhow, thanks for reading so far and giving this pairing some love! 
> 
> \-- Fidgey


End file.
